Magical Studies at Hogwarts...

Chapter 201 Peeping

"Blake...he reminds me of a loyal servant..."

Looking at the aged house-elf before him, Old Voldemort recalled some things from the past. It was a secret known to only a few, and Kreacher was one of them.

"You came from the Black family's old mansion? Why?"

"That wretched spendthrift inherited the mistress's house. He didn't like the old Kreacher and kicked him out," Kreacher replied cautiously, bowing slightly.

"Oh? Is it Sirius?" Old Voldemort chuckled, glancing at Lucius and Narcissa standing to the side, and said, "He actually went back?"

"He is now the last of the Black family bloodline, the great Dark Lord," Narcissa said softly, bowing her head.

"Really? I never imagined that the eternally pure Black family would have only one member left. What a pity..." Comrade Old Fu sighed.

After failing to secure a professorship in Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts, Voldemort embarked on a bloody path. His belief that "magic should belong to pure-bloods" garnered him the support of the vast majority of pure-blood families, with the Black family being the most steadfast among them.

As the oldest pure-blood wizarding family, the Black family has the deepest heritage among the Twenty-Eight Holy Clans, and coincidentally, that generation of family members was also exceptionally outstanding. Sirius Black, Regulus, Narcissa, and the most loyal Bellatrix—the former being a general of the Order of the Phoenix, while the latter three were Voldemort's right-hand men.

It can be said that before Comrade Voldemort suffered his Waterloo, the two Black siblings, Regulus and Bellatrix, were the people he trusted most.

"Kreacher, tell me, what did Sirius do after he returned to Black's old house?" Old Voldemort leaned back in his chair, very relaxed. Knowing the habits of house-elves well, he knew very well that Kreacher wouldn't be able to tell him much. This question was just a casual one; it would be good if he knew, but it would be normal if he didn't.

"That wretched spendthrift won't allow Kreacher to tell anyone his secret..."

"Then say what you can say!"

Kreacher hung his head, his large, bat-like ears drooping, and tugged at the tattered cloth wrapped around his body. He said, "Old Kreacher isn't liked by the young master, but the mistress dislikes him even more because he brought his wretched friends back to her house and made a mess of things..."

"Especially those few foolish little wizards, those disgusting Mudbloods, they're the worst..."

"Little wizards?" Old Voldemort became interested and asked, "Who are they? Be more specific, Kreacher."

"A disgusting Mudblood, a pure-blood scoundrel Weasley, and the eldest son's godson..." As he spoke, Kreacher suddenly burst into tears, grabbing a rag from his clothes to wipe them away. "He was a very bad boy. He was always angry with his friends, and like the eldest son, he hated Kreacher... Kreacher was just following the mistress's orders, yet he cursed Kreacher with vicious words..."

"Raising a son?" Comrade Old Fu asked thoughtfully. "What's his name?"

"Harry Potter".

"Potter? Hehehe..." Old Voldemort suddenly laughed, his attention completely drawn in. The name reminded him of many things. As far back as that night more than a decade ago, and as close as the scene he had inadvertently "seen" a few days ago.

"Listen to this, Lucius, Sirius Black is Potter's godfather? What an amazing coincidence!" He waved his hand, looking even happier, and a plan suddenly popped into his head, making him eager to try it out.

"Take it with you, Lucius. You can keep it..." Old Voldemort said. "As long as he doesn't tell anyone, it's fine to keep it."

"You'll do a good job, won't you, Lucius?"

"I understand, Master. I will tell it what it cannot say," Lucius said, bowing.

Old Voldemort waved his hand again, then stood up from his chair, with Wormtail quickly helping him up. Lucius and Narcissa took Kreacher upstairs, letting him find a place to stay in the kitchen, before returning to their room to rest.

Ike had been listening quietly, and now back in his room, his mind replaying the now hazy plot. Earlier in the basement, he'd noticed Voldemort's expression had been strange for a fleeting moment, right when Kreacher uttered Harry's name.

Gradually, the buried memories became clearer. Ike remembered, and his thumb instinctively pressed on the ring, but he didn't press it down.

"It's not the right time yet, it's not the right time yet..."

Thinking to himself, he raised his finger again.

This Christmas Eve was anything but peaceful. Comrade Old Fu received some information from a house-elf, which gave him some new ideas about his original plan, potentially increasing the chances of success.

In contrast, Harry's Christmas was as disappointing as ever.

Just a few days ago, he dreamt that he had turned into a huge snake, which even attacked Mr. Weasley, biting him several times. This woke him up, and he frantically went to Dumbledore, telling him everything he had felt and seen.

Dumbledore didn't believe it at first, but after listening to his words, he had the portraits confirm it and found that what he said was true.

Mr. Weasley was indeed attacked!

Ron, Ginny, the twins, Mrs. Weasley, and everyone else arrived at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Injuries and Wounds, where they met Mr. Weasley, who was wrapped up like a mummy.

Everyone was worried, and Mrs. Weasley was crying her eyes out, but clearly, there were things more important than the injured Mr. Weasley.

Harry and his friends were kicked out, and Moody, Tonks, and the Weasleys talked about some secrets. With the help of the twins' retractable ears, Harry and his friends overheard the adults' conversation.

"...They searched the entire area but didn't find the snake that attacked you...but surely the mysterious person wouldn't have expected a snake to get in?"

"It must have been released to scout," came Moody's voice. "He probably wanted to check things out; if Arthur wasn't around, the snake would have more time."

"Potter saw the whole thing? That's what he said, right?"

"Yes, that's right," Mrs. Weasley said. "Dumbledore seems to have been waiting for the boy to see this; he's very worried..."

"Of course he's worried! Potter doesn't know what this means! Seeing things through the mysterious man's snake—that's serious!"

"Think about it, if the mysterious person is attached to that thing, is it possible that..."

Harry couldn't listen anymore; his heart was pounding as if it would burst out of his chest. His face burned, and he was somewhat dazed. He numbly removed his retractable earrings and looked at his friends beside him, only to find them all staring at him with expressions of terror.

He panicked, his mind a jumble of thoughts, and he even felt that Voldemort was possessing him, observing everything through his eyes.

"It's my fault...it's my fault that Mr. Weasley is in trouble!"

(End of this chapter)